


Game

by Crockzilla



Series: Domesti-Kink with Spideypool [4]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: BDSM, D/s, Domestic Fluff, Dominance, Edgeplay, Established Relationship, Following Directions, Kinky Crafts, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, Submission, Wade is a Good Boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-16 23:31:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11839296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crockzilla/pseuds/Crockzilla
Summary: Peter comes up with a game to occupy Wade while he's at work. It's kinky.





	Game

Wade drummed his fingers on the table, which he was preeetty sure he was allowed to do. This was happening to him because they’d watched _The Secretary_ with Maggie Gyllenhaal (*drools*) and James Spader (*super drools*). In his current state, he was very torn about whether or not showing this movie to his tiny, creative, and surprisingly devious Spidey had been a Best or Worst Idea.

Peter had gone on and on about how it was such a perfect mix of romantic and hot, and it portrayed complex and hurting characters without pathologizing them, and it showed people making mistakes in a kinky relationship without irresponsibly promoting unethical practices unlike “those god awful 50 Shades books.” Wade had agreed with him enthusiastically, and once Peter was asleep after some athletic sexing, Wade had hidden his copies of the complete 50 Shades series as well as his set of collectible plates which had each been signed by a very reluctant Jamie Dornan (“Are these really official merchandise?” / “Look, numb-nuts – I wish I was talking to Charlie Hunam or Jensen Ackles right now as much as you do, but we’re both here, and these plates won’t sign themselves.”)

That had been on Friday, Movie Night, and after a deeply romantic weekend of nabbing baddies and breaking in their new Thai cookbook, Wade had been particularly reluctant to let his guy go back to the office on Monday.

“But whyyy???” he had whined on Sunday night, hanging dejectedly off of their bed.

“Because,” Peter explained as he desperately searched the inside of their closet for a tie to lay out with his suit for the next day, “the board of the Uncle Ben Foundation is having their monthly meeting. How would it look if I wasn’t there?”

“Isn’t Rich-Pants-McIron-Dick on the board? Can’t he cover for you? I’m sure you’ve covered for _him_ before so that he could stay home for adult hugs with _his_ boyfriend!”

“If you are talking about Tony,” Peter said, patiently, “then yes, he’s on the board, but no, he can’t cover for me because the Foundation isn’t in honor of his uncle. I have to be there. I want to.”

Since being articulate wasn’t getting him anywhere, Wade began letting out what he hoped was a very pitiful keen. It worked – Peter looked up at him with the sweet You Are So Weird and I Love You So Much eyes and came to sit on the bed with him, rubbing a warm hand on his scarred chest.

“I’m sorry, babe. Don’t you have stuff you can do until I get done tomorrow?”

“Not really,” Wade muttered, turning over so Peter could give him back-scritches. “No jobs right now. No Avengers stuff. I’ll just sit here and be alone, I guess.”

Wade sighed, dramatically. He felt Peter’s warm, slight body lean over him and hummed happily in spite of his angst. “What if,” Peter said into his ear in _that_ voice, “we played a fun game tomorrow? To help pass the time?”

Wade turned and squinted at his boyfriend, who was looking at him with _those_ eyes as well as using _that_ voice, turned out. This promised all kinds of good things. “How can we play a game if you’re not here?”

Peter grinned at him in a way that sent a pleasant chill down his spine. “You keep your phone on you tomorrow, and I’ll send you instructions.”

“Instructions?”

“Mm-hm. I’ll send you instructions, and if you’re a good boy and do everything I tell you to do, the way I tell you to do it, then you win.”

Wade swallowed. He was suddenly light-headed. “What do I win?” he asked in what he had hoped would be a suave, sexy voice but came out more of a hoarse squeak.

But it was okay, because his Spidey seemed pleased. “You’ll see when I get home. Want to play?”

Yes. Yes he did.

The next morning, he woke to the sound of the shower running, but when he sleepily groped at the bathroom door so that he could help Peter get squeaky clean – a responsibility he took very seriously – he found it locked. They _never_ locked the bathroom door, mostly cuz shower-sex but also because Wade had a phobia about choking to death in the bathroom (“Why would you eat in the bathroom?” Peter had asked, and Wade had only shaken his head, because if Peter didn’t know then Wade couldn’t explain it to him).

Peter emerged from the shower, all clean-smelling and steamy and in a towel, to see a very pouty Wade standing in the middle of their room. “You’re showering later,” he explained with a cheerful smile.

“I could shower twice, you know,” Wade groused.

“Trust me,” Peter said. “Unless you’ve changed your mind and don’t want to play anymore.”

The floaty, dizzy feeling he got from the mere notion of Peter telling him what to do made Wade reassure his boyfriend that he still very much wanted to play. He helped Peter into his suit, assured him that his tie matched and it was normal for pants to have asymmetrical pleats, and poured his coffee into his to-go mug for him.

“I’ll text you when I get there,” Peter said, blowing haphazardly into the tiny hole at the top of the to-go mug, which Wade found unspeakably cute. “Until then, you can have some coffee, and you can watch some Netflix. But you _may_ not keep watching British Bake Off Master Class, or I really will actually spank you, and not in a hot way.”

 “…There is no version of you spanking me that isn’t hot.”

“Really don’t though, okay?” Peter said, turning on his Big Serious Please Eyes, which Wade saw a lot when Peter was Little and it _always_ got him. “We’re at the Xmas episode and I want to see Paul’s apricot couronne.”

“As long as I get to see _your_ apricot couronne after all this.”

Peter grinned, kissed him good-bye, and was out the door. Wade poured himself some coffee but skipped adding the grown-up juice – Peter hadn’t _said_ he couldn’t have boozy coffee, but he also had just told him to have coffee.

Secret time: while Wade was considered by many to be a Very Bad Man, in Kinky Land and on the “s” side of D/s he was what’s known as a Good Boy. A _very_ Good Boy. He loved being given things to do that he could do well, and he loved doing them well and being praised for doing so. It made his insides feel like the goo that comes out of chocolate lava cake. He’d done things like this before, and enjoyed it immensely, and Peter had been toppy with him before, but never with something this – structured. Then there was his whole backstory with Peter, with Spider-man, the wanting-to-please, the finally-getting-affection-after-like-ten-issues, the fact that he loved him the way water nymphs love water lilies, or at least the way he imagined they did. The thought made his skin feel squidgy and he had to sit down. He popped Netflix on and had skimmed through part of an episode of Designing Women (which he knew Peter wouldn’t want to watch any way because he had _no_ taste for 90s sitcoms about single women being fabulous at each other) before his phone dibbled. It was Peter. *gulp*

_Go get your breakfast from the fridge and eat all of it at the table. No TV til you’re done._

Oh. Splendid! Wade had opened the fridge and was grabbing the leftover Thai fried rice they’d made that weekend when his phone dibbled again.

_It’s what has a sticky note on it_

_That says “breakfast”_

Goddamn Spidey-pants, thinking of everything. Wade replaced the Tupperware which contained the spicy yumminess he’d been looking forward to making himself sick on and spotted _his_ breakfast – a yogurt parfait with fruit and granola.

A _yogurt._ Par _fait_.

With fruit.

And _granola._

Wade threw a mini-hissy-fit, hoping Peter wasn’t watching him on hidden-camera, and then kind of hoping he was because this was _bull_ shit. This was not Deadpool food. This wasn’t even _Spidey_ food. Peter was testing him to see how much he loved him/how serious he was about playing this little game by _starving_ him with this Whole Foods monstrosity –

And then he realized that the parfait was in one of their own glasses. And then he saw a small container of fruit and another of yogurt on the lower fridge shelf, and he realized that this hippie-dippie-spooge-fest of a breakfast had not been purchased from Whole Foods but that Peter had made it for him.

Peter had made him breakfast.

Wade sat at their table and ate his breakfast, which was surprisingly good, possibly because it tasted like love. When had Peter even put this together, when they’d only agreed to play the game last night? Had he been _planning_ this? Since Movie Night? The thought made him blush a little, and for some reason eating something so aesthetically pleasing (look at how neat the _layers_ are!) made him feel exceedingly fancy. Like a Princess. Peter’s Princess. Peter Parker’s Pretty Parfait Princess. He imagined this embroidered on frilly panties and realized he’d just figured out what Spidey was getting for his birthday.

Wade scooped the last bit of yogurt out of the bottom of the glass and licked it off his spoon, pausing mid-lick to snap a picture of himself and his empty parfait glass and send it to his boyfriend. Moments later, he got a text back:

_Good boy_

Wade hummed and his whole insides turned to mush as he imagined Peter’s voice saying those words to him. He was _flying,_ and it was barely 9am. If this kept up, there was a good chance he’d have a seriously hard drop tomorrow. Usually that thought was enough to flood him with anxiety and bring the ol’ defenses back up any time he got too close to actually being vulnerable with another person. But this was Peter. No matter how mopey and/or nuts he was tomorrow, he really did believe that Peter would take care of him, because that’s what Spider-man did – took care of people. And in a weird, somewhat more stabby way, that’s what Deadpool did, too. So he hoped this game thing stayed as intense as it already was, because this whole submitting completely to his beloved deal was really turning out to be his jam.

Washing the dishes made him feel _slightly_ less gay, thought not much, so he did some pull ups and mirror-karate while he waited for Pete’s next text. He did not wait long.

_Open up the craft drawer_

The reminder that they had a “craft drawer” and the thrill of excitement that this reminder aroused in him drove home to Wade that no amount of mirror-karate would mitigate his gayness, which he was totally fine with, tbh. When he opened the craft drawer, instead of seeing only the carefully-organized pipe cleaners and glitter glue that he’d put in there himself, he was greeted by a box full of new craft supplies as well as another sticky note: “Make me something! XO - P”

Squee.

Wade thought he might need a break to breathe into a paper bag while he explored the box of fresh craft supplies. Peter must have found a new store, because they did _not_ have this shit at Michael’s. He lost all track of time as he carefully cut and glued and bedazzled, thinking the whole time of Peter and what he would think of what Wade was creating. He imagined Peter sitting next to him, chin propped in his hand, smiling proudly at him. The thought made him feel extra good in a way that was not just erotic, which felt a little weird. He briefly considered what it would be like to be Little and for Peter to take care of him in that dynamic, and felt his face go hot again. There was no way he’d be able to get into a Little-mindset as easily as Peter, who was already so sweet and pure and endearingly child-like (though he had _never_ mentioned that part to his love – he picked up early on from the other Avengers that this personality trait was not something one brought up to Peter but rather enjoyed quietly to oneself for fear of Spidey!wrath). He shook his head – it was a nice thought that he’d save for later – and returned to his crafting.

He had made a dick. A very glittery dick. And balls. And then, in a moment of inspiration, added a kind of vagina and then linked all of the various bits so that they became a veritable gender-queer collage. With glitter. And jewels. And these neat sparkly-bendy-curlicues that Peter had bought. It was so beautiful that he wanted to hug it to him, but he was afraid to hurt it, so he settled for waving his hands about it affectionately. He texted Peter:

_Can I wait to show it to you until you get home?_

And almost immediately got a reply:

_Of course! Lunch is on its way - let me know when you get it!_

As he was coo-ing over Peter’s excessive use of exclamation points, there was a knock at the door. Wade opened it to see a very confused-looking delivery lady holding a large-ish bag.

“Delivery for,” she checked the receipt, “Wad Wollman?”

“Yes, I’m Wad.”

Wade texted Peter as he set his lunch on the table: _Got it_

Peter had clearly been waiting: _Good! Eat at the table, and drink a whole glass of water_

It was as if Peter _felt_ him getting one of their small juice glasses out of the cupboard, because he quickly added: _A BIG glass not a juice glass Wade_

The sass was so strong, even in text form, that Wade giggled as he got a big glass and filled it with water. He opened the bag of what he hoped but kind of already knew wasn’t a massive party combo from Los Pollos Caliente, their new favorite tex-mex spot, but instead saw a salad. A big salad. A big, kind of pretty salad, which was not a thought he’d ever had about a salad before. He obediently sat at the table and ate the whole vitamin-packed meal, which was surprisingly yummy if he was being real (this salmon is cooked _perfectly_ ), and could practically feel the sparkly Princess tiara forming on his head. He decided to add that to Peter’s birthday present. He downed his big glass of water, burped happily, and took another picture of himself with his empty salad bowl and glass and sent it to his boyfriend.

_Good job baby_

Wade hummed happily to himself. Peter pretty much exclusively called him “babe” rather than “baby” because they both associated that term of endearment so strongly with their age play relationship, and it made his inside buzz pleasantly to see it on his phone. More instructions:

_Open up the work-stuff cabinet_

_You can pick ONE treat to enjoy while you do your homework_

Hm. Homework was, again, not something that Wade had any particular feelings about normally, but being _assigned_ homework by _Doctor_ Peter Parker…

He opened the work-stuff cabinet, which was crammed with mildly-organized forms and somewhat-broken weapons (oh, _that’s_ where that bear trap got to!) to see a typed form next to three chocolate-y treats. Wade presumed he was supposed to pick one, and he was shocked at how _lost_ he felt at having to choose, but knowing he could pick only one helped to ground him, like a gentle but firm hand on his back almost. He selected the chocolate bar (because it would be the sexiest to eat) and picked up his homework, which he now saw was two sheets of paper stapled together with questions typed out on it, like a quiz.

He giggled as he sat down at the table with his treat, his homework, and the #2 pencil that had been laid next to his homework, clearly meant for him to use. This was fun! Would Peter want to do this again? Like, every day? They could take turns! But what if he couldn’t come up with activities this adorable and exciting? Fret, fret, fret. He slid the eco-friendly wrapper off of the chocolate bar, which he then realized was a _classy_ chocolate bar, like with dark chocolate so it was actually good for you and what not. He sighed, fondly – of course Peter wouldn’t just grab something at the convenience store. This was special.

The first page of his homework was easy. It was a series of multiple-choice and True or False questions dealing with Spideypool trivia, things like “What was Deadpool eating when Spider-man told him he loved him for the first time?” and “True or False, Peter Parker is more attractive than Lady Death.” (Okay, that one was kinda hard, NOT because he didn’t prefer Peter, obviously, but because Death might, like, pop out of the couch cushions and smite him [except she probably doesn’t care that much what we think of her and she has better things to do than spy on us from inside of our couch] {[or _does_ she???]})

Wade shifted so that he couldn’t see the couch from where he was sitting and quickly finished the first page. The second page, however, was – hard. It was a mostly blank page with five numbered bullet points. “Write five nice things about Wade Wilson,” read the typed instructions at the top of the page. Next to the instructions, written in ink (so clearly put there when Peter was proofreading his quiz) it said “You don’t have to show me this part – it’s just for you!”

Wade felt a bit sick, suddenly. He wanted, more intensely than he could say, to do what Peter asked him to do. Peter wouldn’t tolerate _any_ one saying _any_ thing remotely negative about Wade, even (especially) Wade himself. It had caused some of their rare “we _have_ to talk about feelings shit” fights, because Wade felt like he couldn’t be honest with Peter, and he _wanted_ to feel better about himself, but it was so—Sigh. It was hard. Peter had promised that he would work on listening and not getting mad when Wade told him the things in his head, but Wade knew it made him sad and worried.

Wade felt frozen. He suddenly wanted to not be alone. He had a mild impulse to quit the game, knowing all he would have to do would be to text “Red” to Peter and it would be over, no questions and no discussion.

Five things. Five fucking things. Goddamnit.

He tapped his #2 pencil next to the first slot and eventually wrote, “Spider-man loves me.”

Then, for the second slot, he wrote, “Peter Parker loves me,” because Peter wouldn’t see this to tell him that was cheating, and it wasn’t cheating, because they were kind of two different people. He went back and wrote “Dr.” in front of Peter Parker, and that cheered him up a bit.

Three more.

Thinking of the other most important person in his life, the _mosty_ most important person, only worsened the sick feeling inside of him. He knew Ellie loved him. It was just – he was doing an okay job with the whole dad thing, he thought, but whether or not that was good enough to justify having the love of the coolest little human in the history of the multiverse…

He took a deep breath and wrote, “Eleanor Camacho loves me.”

Even though he still felt weird about it, writing that had eased the weight on his heart somewhat, and for number four he just stole something from Peter, “I have nice eyes,” and finished up with one he couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of first, “Perfect ass.” He texted Peter:

_homework + treat = DID_

Moments later:

_My good boy_

_Are you ready for your last thing?_

Wade quivered. _Was_ he?

 _Yes sir,_ he wrote back, hopeful that he’d just given Peter a desk-boner. (That’s when you have a boner but you’re behind a desk, so – yeah.) New text:

_Take a shower_

Oh. O…kay. But just as he was negotiating his mild disappointment, his phone dibbled again:

_Touch yourself until you’re about to come_

_And then stop_

Wade’s head spun. Dibble:

_And do that as many times as you can stand it_

He waited, but that seemed to be the end of his instructions. Wade wasn’t sure how long he sat at the table waiting for the world to right itself, but eventually he was able to get up and slowly, carefully make his way towards the bathroom. If he missed out on this because he’d passed out from too-much-hot, he would never forgive himself.

Wade slid out of his clothes, moving slowly, savoring. He hadn’t needed to be told to imagine Peter doing this for him. He closed his eyes and he could almost smell his boyfriend, who perpetually smelled like shampoo and happiness, even covered in sweat and blood. (Peter had rolled his eyes _so_ hard when Wade had laid that one on him that they had actually become stuck for a second. Terrifying.)

He turned the shower on and waited for it to warm up. Had he really thought this wasn’t where his devious little spider was going with this whole “game” thing? The answer was no, no he had thought this was probably exactly how things would go, and he had been inwardly excited about it the whole time. He sighed as the hot water hit his skin, taking a few deep breaths as the shower got steamy, trying to calm down because if he didn’t then there was no way he’d be able to do this once, let alone multiple times.

“As many times as you can stand it” – god _damn,_ that was mean, because some subs would almost certainly take it as an out, but Peter knew that Wade _wouldn’t_ , that he would torture himself beyond the point of sanity to do what he’d been told, because he _wanted_ to. Tits, tits, tits. This mental rant had brought him somewhat out of his haze of arousal, thankfully, and he moved his hands over his body and down to Wade Junior to set to work. Three times. That was reasonable. He would aim for three times.

*~*~*

Wade groped for his phone and was able to answer on the third ring. “Huh—mmph?” he said partly into the towel that he’d laid out on top of their bed where he’d collapsed.

“Hi, babe. How are you doing?”

The sound of Peter’s voice made his stomach swoop, or it would have it he had enough energy in his body for such things. How was he _doing???_ He couldn’t _move_ because his muscles were fatigued from holding in like a million orgasms, and his dick felt like it was full of angry termites. He had lost count of how many times he’d gotten himself to the edge and stopped because every time he’d told himself, “this is it, this is the last one, you don’t ever have to do this again after this one,” he’d found some little inner well of strength, some last reserve, that said, “you’ve got one more in you, fuck boy – do it! Do it for Spider-man!” And so he had, and now his brain was buzzing so hard he couldn’t think straight, and it was all Peter’s fault, and whatever prize he had in mind had better be goddamn _fabulous._

He meant to say all of these things to his boyfriend, but instead, what came out of his mouth was a sad, garbled, “Iloveyou”

“I love you, too,” Peter replied, clearly amused. “I’m coming home. Can you make it?”

Wade sighed, some strength returning now that he end of his torment was in sight. “Uh-huh.”

“Good. I want you to sit at the kitchen table until I get there.”

“…Do I need to be wearing anything?”

“Yes, please. But only so that I get to change that when I get there. See you soon.”

And that was the harrowing story of how Wade had ended up sitting at their table, fingers drumming, eyes glued to the door. When he heard the lock snick open, he nearly jumped up, but his instructions kept him in place. When he saw Peter’s body come through the door, attached to Peter’s sweet sweet face that smiled beautifully when his eyes found Wade, he felt such an intense surge of joy that it was painful. _There_ he was, _there_ was his guy, his Spidey, his Peter, who came over and kissed him on the forehead, shedding his suit jacket.

“Are you okay?” Peter asked, looking intently at him. Wade nodded. “You can talk, babe,” Peter said, mildly concerned, but Wade shook his head and Peter smiled, understanding. He was okay, but now that Peter was here, he was _entirely_ too far down to talk. Peter leaned close.

“I’m so proud of you,” he said, making Wade shiver all over. “Are you ready for your prize?”

The moan-whimper that came out of Wade would have made a lesser man cower, but Peter laughed, fondly. He took Wade’s hand and led him toward the bedroom – YAY – and then toward the bathroom – MOAR yay – where he made good on his promise to remove Wade’s clothes. He took his time, his eyes roaming over every bit of skin that he revealed, a hungry expression on his face that made Wade full-on _blush_. Peter smirked when he saw. “Red really does suit you, cutie.”

Wade couldn’t do anything but sigh as Peter quickly took of his own clothes, turned on the shower and got under the warm spray, guiding Wade in with him. He pulled Wade close, wrapping his arms around him, and kissed him, like a serious kiss, like a teenagers-making-out kiss. Wade leaned against him, and the much smaller man held him up, easily, humming as he gently swayed. Peter kept them like that for a moment, just enjoying the closeness and comfort of each other’s bodies, and Wade had been wanting this so hard all day that he thought maybe he could be happy forever with just this.

And then, Peter shifted and turned Wade towards the shower wall, placing his hands on the tile. Wade shivered as Peter pressed his lithe body up against his back and moaned when he felt teeth on his neck – not quite biting, but close. “Keep your hands flat, right here,” Peter instructed, huskily. Wade nodded, resting his forehead on the wet tile.

And then, gripping Wade’s waist for balance, Peter sunk down to his knees behind him. Oh, _good_ ness, Wade thought, his heart rate spiking. He felt Peter’s strong fingers part his ass cheeks, and then he felt Peter’s breath, then his lips just ghosting over the sensitive skin, and then felt his _tongue._

Wade jerked so hard he had to fight to keep his palms on the wall. No matter how many times he’d done this, the feeling of _exposure,_ of _no no wrong wrong wrong_ was always SO intense. He panted into the tile as Peter gently licked at first, coaxing, and then outright _sobbed_ as Peter’s tongue insistently pushed into him, penetrating. He could totally come just from this, he thought, as he cried out, face pressed against the tile, Peter’s strong hands holding him open, vulnerable, and in place.

And just when it was _almost_ too much, and Wade was fervently hoping that their neighbors hadn’t been home all day because between this and his earlier shower-time they would surely be convinced that an emotional adolescent had been sobbing in the shower all day, he felt Peter pull back. His hands came to grip Wade’s waist, turning him so that he could lean his back against the wall, and it was a good thing his Spidey was so ridiculously strong because Wade was _not_ capable of holding his own weight/moving his legs/any of the above. Peter looked up to see Wade’s face and was pleased by what he saw. His normally chatty boyfriend didn’t say anything, just gazed up at him as if Wade was the most beautiful, astounding, _special_ thing in the world. It made Wade feel as if he was floating and drowning all at once. He had gotten to where he could accept it, this kind of open affection, because he could do anything for Peter, but he would never get used to it.

Peter gripped Wade’s left hip with one hand, pinning him in place, and wrapped the other around his poor, straining cock. Wade mewled brokenly as Peter ran his tongue around the head, looking up at him through his eyelashes to see the effect, but he only tortured him a moment before fully taking Wade in his mouth and sucking, jesus, _hard_ , working with his tongue and pulling him down into his throat.

Wade did not last long. All of the orgasms that he’d cruelly trapped earlier in the day all happened at once, wracking his whole inside and outside so badly that he was actually afraid, and he grasped at Peter’s arms for reassurance. But Peter kept him safely pinned in place, holding him up as he sucked down all of Wade’s cum, not pulling off until Wade’s body fell back against the wall, and then pulling off slowly and carefully, lips and tongue wrapped firmly around him all the way. _Mine,_ Peter seemed to say, _all of that, all of you, mine mine mine._

Wade didn’t see Peter stand up, because he’d shut his eyes to stop the shower from spinning, not wanting to ruin all this magic by puking. (And he _had_ come so hard that he’d puked before, so he knew it was possible.) But he heard Peter turn off the water and felt the loss of the warm spray, then felt Peter’s sweet, impossibly strong arms grasp him around the shoulders and under his knees.

Wade nuzzled his head into Spider-man’s neck as he was carried bridal-style into the bedroom. This was another thing that never got less exciting, less endearing, no matter how many times Peter did it. He felt himself laid out on their bed and then the dip of the bed behind him as Peter stretched out, wrapping himself around Wade’s back, planting a gentle kiss on his neck. Wade found Peter’s wrist at his waist and held onto it, and quickly drifted off.

*~*~*

“I can’t believe you didn’t watch Master Class.”

“You told me not to,” Wade reminded, curling deeper into The Good Blanket and handing Peter another taco (part of Wade’s reward). On the coffee table in front of them sat Wade’s art project and his homework, both of which had earned him lots of yummy praise and kisses and squeezes.

“I know,” Peter admitted, “but I was kind of hoping you would so I’d have an excuse to spank you later.”

 “Why, you don’t need an excuse to spank _this_ guy, sugar-bear.”

“True,” Peter grinned, snuggling closer and kissing Wade’s shoulder, “but it’s fun to have one.”

Hm. He wasn’t wrong. Wade looked at the coffee table, considering. He looked at his gender-queer art project, but no, it was too perfect and Peter had said he wanted to put it on his desk. He looked at the little take-out ramekin of tomatillo sauce. Good thing their floor was hardwood, because that meant easy-clean-up, but Peter’s OCD would still make him at least a little bit actually irritated at the deliberate mess. Perfect.

Watching Peter’s eyes go wide as he gently nudged the ramekin off the table with his foot, Wade hummed happily to himself. Sometimes being a Good Boy meant giving your boyfriend an excuse to spank you. He went merrily to the corner, as ordered, his ass already tingling pleasantly at the thought of what was to come. He looked back and saw Peter trying to look stern, biting his lip to hide his excited grin, and he felt the familiar swoop of joy that he always got when he’d made his guy happy. And tomorrow, if he dropped and felt horrible and bleak and helpless, they would cuddle and watch British people bake things and Peter would tell him how good he was and how much he loved him.

 

Best. Game. Ever.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for all the kudos and comments! Next up is more age play, and then medical kink. If you have things you want to see, lemme know.


End file.
